


Golden Rain

by Lee_Mix



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-21
Updated: 2015-02-21
Packaged: 2018-03-14 10:00:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3406478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lee_Mix/pseuds/Lee_Mix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The world was a lesser place for the loss of Lady Emmeryn, but it's the youngest Princess of Ylisse that has become shattered by the passing. Though Gaius has never truly cared for the lives of nobles, he takes it upon himself to provide an inkling of comfort. All the while, the rain never stops pouring outside.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Golden Rain

Ylisse was on the verge of war from its neighbouring tyrants of Plegia. Though Exalt Emmeryn had been steadfast in her reign of peace and hope for a bloodless end to their sieges, her words could not shield her people from the flaming arrows of fate. So she had sought to inspire people on her own terms, by making sure the only blood spilled from her hand were the ones from her lips as she hit the ground of her own accord.

Prince Chrom of Ylisse, effectively, became ruler of a land covered in the scarlet blood of the most selfless leader the lands had ever been blessed with. He had been silent in his mourning. His younger sister had howled at her older sister’s demise. She was barely held back by the family’s dedicated bodyguard, Ser Frederick, but even he could not surpass the pain that had stabbed his eyes, and had even shed a private tear when he was sure his wards were not looking.

The skies wept for their lost Exalt. Rain pellets poured in the millions, and any fake smiles washed away into the dirt below their feet.

Gaius sighed as he fixed the sheath attached at his hip and continued the longward climb back to Regna Ferox’s grand castle. One of the carriages had broken down at the bottom of the hill, so he and a few others had opted to walk the rest of the journey; two of the remaining Pegasus sisters, the Feroxian swordsman, and the Plegian witch.

None of them said anything to each other.

The only thing that Gaius could feel was a growing emptiness inside his body. He’d never been one for nobility or supporting any particular upper-classes, nor did he always have the utmost courtesy for those who introduced themselves with a title, but he’d held a modicum of respect for the Lady Emmeryn. She knew what she was doing with the power she inherited, and she didn’t judge who the person was before her based on background and lineage alone. She saw someone who could help and thus gave that person the chance to earn her trust.

She was good. _Very_ good.

Chrom had traits of that, but he was still reserved and stiff when it came to speaking to those of a lower station than him. Gaius couldn’t fault him for that, not really. Someone couldn’t help how they were brought up, and he had to give credit that Chrom was at least trying to change. Not all blue-bloods were able to admit to that.

A pulsing pain suddenly burned around his shoulder, and he found his steps faltering as he gripped at the source. “Shit.” Gaius hissed, pulling back his clothing a little. A deep gash stained the pale skin, and he had to bite his lip when his hand went near it. A stray sword wound, he guessed.

“You are wounded.” Gaius flinched when the Feroxian swordsman spoke. He’d barely ever said words to anyone outside Gregor or Chrom, and even then, it was strained.

Gaius flexed his shoulder and covered the wound back over with his clothing. “Not as badly as some are today, Daggers.”

Lon’qu’s brow rose. “What is with that title?”

Despite the situation, Gaius smiled a little. “Friendly nickname. I give ‘em to everyone.”

“Still,” Lon’qu pressed on, “I don’t understand the relevance of it. I carry a katana. Not daggers.”

Gaius merely shrugged. “You glare a lot at people. ‘Specially women if they get too close to you. Plus I remember somewhere that someone once coined the term ‘glaring daggers at people’. And something tells me you’d be dead accurate if you threw them at people who piss you off. I guess it just fits in my eyes.”

“Hmph. Whatever. Just make sure you get that wound treated when we reach Regna Ferox.”

“Worried about me, are you?” Gaius teased, despite himself.

There was no laughter. “We’ve already lost one good person today.”

“I doubt the effects of my loss would be the same in the army as the Lady Emmeryn’s passing,” Gaius muttered. If his words had any effect on Lon’qu, they were quickly replaced with a neutral expression, before the Feroxian swordsman turned on his heel and back toward the long upward climb ahead. Gaius made do with a makeshift bandage by ripping the bottom of his sleeve and tying it around to put the pressure on.

 _Shit bandages_ , he thought to himself as he staggered on, _but it’ll do for now. Can’t be fussing over flesh wounds when some people are dealing with fresh scars tonight._

Thus they embarked on the roads. The gates to Regna Ferox were opened with less hostility than before, but it was slow in the heaving rain and the dreaded air that hung overhead. Chrom had been called to the War Room along with Robyn (who wasn’t much brighter than Chrom: personal failure and nauseous, he guessed), which left the rest of the army to recollect their possible negligences of the mission in the privacy of the great indoors.

Some vented their frustrations into fuel for more training, others simply held one another as one cried and the other whispered empty words. Others, like that Plegian Witch--Tharja? Was that her name?--didn’t feel the loss as much as others, but she simply muttered chants he didn’t understand under her breath.  

But nobody looked more broken than the Princess.

A shroud of silence clothed the sincere attempts not to stare as she entered the hall: alone.

Her gaze didn’t meet anyones. Her footsteps dragged on. Her hair was sopping wet, her clothes torn from the battle, and she carried her healing staff like it was made of stone.

“Does anyone need healing?”  Her voice was like a bird’s tentative steps onto new soil. So hushed, so quiet. Not risen to attract too much attention. Loud enough to know it still existed.

 _Yes_ , Gaius thought, _but I don’t think those healing spells will work on a broken heart._

“I-I know what just happened, b-but the safety of the a-army needs to come first. D-Don’t just refuse just because o-of what just happened. . .” Gaius knew that the trembling of her shoulders wasn’t the cold seeping through her clothing. The staring then started, and if there was one thing he understood, it was that tragedy and humiliation didn’t mix well together.  
  
“I do.” He called out, and Lissa’s eyes met his. Thanking him. For not holding back on account of her feelings? He couldn’t read her mind, but he knew the look of someone in need. “Got a bit of a nasty nick on my shoulder earlier by an arrow or something. Think you could take a quick look, Princess?”

He could feel the judgemental eyes staring him down He could already hear their thoughts; _“How dare he request something so selfish in this moment? Can he not see the Princess is grieving and needs comfort more than she needs to do work?”_ Gaius could scoff. Coddling people with pity didn’t help much. But it was then he saw Lissa’s resolve had wavered, as did her ability to hold a strong stance, and Gaius was over by her side with the immediate goal to steady her discretely.

“You want to go in another room for a while?” He whispered.

She nodded with a slight movement of her head, and it was then Gaius noticed her chin was trembling and her eyes were spilling with more than just excess raindrops. His arm was around her shoulders as they walked out of the great hall, away from the prying eyes and sympathetic faces to coward to try to comfort.

The two of them ducked into an empty library (the Khans liked reading, it was a known fact), books scattered all over the ground and windows boarded up by ripped curtains and loose wooden boards. He closed the door behind them as Lissa began to open her small pack of medicinal equipment, wiping her eyes roughly with the hem of her sleeve.

“Prin--”

“If you’re going to tell me you were lying about the injury on your shoulder, then don’t.” She cut him off, voice surprisingly sharp. “Because if you are, that’s a cruel joke to play, even for you, Gaius.”

The very accusation would have offended him if not for the delicacy of the situation at hand. But if there was one thing (and there weren’t many) things Gaius prided himself on, it was he always told the truth. Lies weren’t much on his agenda, and they just seemed to fuel the fires more than they did cool the burn. He took a seat and pulled back the shitty self-made bandages, and Lissa’s scowl softened back into a sombre frown.

“I don’t tell lies, Princess. Never had.”

“A thief who doesn’t lie? That’s a first.” Lissa began to concoct a few potions together, discarding the bandages he’d made for himself altogether.

Gaius shrugged, though it pained him to do so, “you’ll be surprised. It’s hard to get into a business like theiveing if you constantly lie about your capabilities. Besides, you lose track of the lies soon enough.”

“Lose track?”

“Yeah. Sometimes you lie enough, you don’t know what truth to believe anymore. In my eyes, it’s best to try and keep it simple.”

“Nothing’s simple anymore.”

He couldn’t find a response to that, so he kept his lips pursed. Lissa went to work on his shoulder, occasionally chastising him for flinching at the pain. She didn’t touch her staff once. The room was colder than he would have liked, but it was quiet and away from prying eyes. He could tell Lissa was revelling in the silence. Gaius didn’t like that. Listen to nothing for long enough, and the silence begins to whisper songs of temptations no man or woman should ever have to accept.

Even after she’d fixed his shoulder, he didn’t leave the library. Neither did she. He was cleaning his sword, she was mixing herbs with her pestle and mortar, grinding them down so that they could serve some future purpose he didn’t care to know. She spared glances over to him a few times, before settling the mortar down.  
  
“Why are you still here, Gaius? Your shoulder is fixed. I can’t do anything else to help it.” Her gaze went downcast. “There’s no reason for you to be here anymore.”

Gaius merely set his sword down on the stone flooring and flexed his shoulder. “You want me to leave?”  
Lissa stiffened visibly, her entire body tensing up. “I-I didn’t say that.” She stammered. “But you. . . you don’t have to stay here just because you feel sorry for me. You don’t have to stay because you pity me.”

“Good. Then I’ll stay.” Lissa watched him, eyes wide, as he continued to polish his sword.

Short sentences seemed best when speaking with her. Long-winded consultations seemed ill-effective at that time, and Lissa most likely had heard it all before. She’s in a better place now, don’t be sad, or, you sister was a lovely woman, I’m so sorry for your loss. It would like be rubbing salt on a freshly stitched wound. That was one of the reasons Gaius stuck to his sugary delights.

His mind briskly wondered what the Shepherds next moves would be. Attacking Gangrel head-on at this point would be nothing but utter suicide, and though Robyn was famed for her tactical expertise, even she couldn’t calculate the future movements of the Plegians. The Khans, as militant as they were, wouldn’t risk their armies if it meant more useless bloodshed. Flavia had pride, but even she knew that not all battles were worth their costs. Most of all, not worth the cost of an Exalt that lived and died for her people.

But it had happened. Lady Emmeryn had died, Chrom had become a ruler, and Lissa had lost both the freedom to travel with her brother and the love of her older sister.

If Gaius wanted, he could have called it quits. He could have packed up, stowed away on a boat, and gone to lands ripe for foraging golden trinkets. A few strings in his mind were gearing him toward that path. But, as much as that calling beckoned him to leave, he did what he thought was best in that moment: he stayed.

If not for the fact he wanted to prove people wrong about him, then it was for the broken Princess in front of him. No kid should have to suffer the way she did. (Kid? Was she really a kid? She seemed to have aged in the passing hours. Perhaps those fabled “Witching hours” were more than just seconds passing by.)

“Gaius,” she braved an attempt at small-talk, something Gaius had to admire, “wh-why did. . . why aren’t you trying to be all. . . well, what people usually do when bad things happen? Why aren't you pitying me and telling me not to do stuff?”

Gaius sheathed his sword back into its scabbard and clipped it onto his belt. He took his time to think about her question, popping a strawberry lollipop into his mouth and flicking it against his teeth. “Hm. Do you really want to know the answer, or are you just trying to fill the air with talk?”

Lissa shrugged. “A bit of both?”

“Well,” he began, taking the lollipop out to speak and glancing up at the ceiling, “you’re going to hear a lot of those things in the coming weeks. Things like, ‘I’m sorry for your loss’, and such. No point in me adding it to the pile.”

Lissa perched on the edge of the other wooden chair, settling her hands in her lap. Her hair had begun to dry, forming a mess of golden curls free from restraint. She then glanced back up at Gaius and bit her lip, before she tugged at the hem of sleeves. “So you don’t feel sorry for me? Or Chrom?” Of course, she would bring her brother into it. She may argue with the blueblood, but it was evident that they would go to the ends of the stars for one another.  
  
“Sure I do.” He admitted, to both her and himself, “I’d be heartless if I didn’t pity the two of you right now. It’s not exactly a nice thing that you’re going through. You especially.” He scratched the back of his neck. “But that doesn’t mean that’s all I can feel about you right now.”

“Oh.” And with that, the Princess of Ylisse reverted back into her shell, her arms wrapped tightly around her knees as she huddled them close to her chest. She buried her head in her little ball, and Gaius was no blind man: he could see her shoulders shaking.

Gaius rummaged around in his pocket and sighed as he stood up. He took a few slow steps, before kneeling next to the Princess. She peeped up from her little haven of solace, to see Gaius offering out a teddy-bear shaped lollipop. He even gave it to her with a small smile of his own.

“Want one?” He offered.

She wiped under her eyes. Her skin was blotchy with red tear marks. “I-I,” she cleared her throat sharply as her voice squeaked. “I-I thought you didn’t share your sweets with anyone?”

Gaius simply chuckled a little. “So long as you don’t tell Nowi I’m sharing my stash of sweets, it’s all good with me. She’s an absolute monster for stealing desserts--especially my own.”

Though devoid of any cheer, Lissa actually managed to laugh a little as she took the treat in her hand. “She’s not so bad, Gaius. She’s really good at cheering people up sometimes.”

 _Just not now,_ Gaius thought. _I saw her try to make you smile earlier. You just waved her off and went back into the carriage._

Lissa began to chew the sweet slowly, smiling a little as the sugary sensation hit her taste buds. Gaius had always said that sugary treats helped brighten the mood, and he still stood by that even now. She didn’t seem to savour the taste like he did, but Gaius was at least pleased she wasn’t devoid of emotion. Becoming lost in that abyss of melancholy would destroy Lissa, and for such a happy Princess, that thought was terrifying.

She soon finished the treat, though continued to chew absent-mindedly on the stick, as if searching for any remains of the sugar. Gaius glanced over at the windows, noticing the rain had begun to let up a little. It wasn’t pounding on the rafters anymore: just gently tapping to make its presence known. The trudge back to the capital wouldn’t be so bad as the last journey, he reasoned.

“What did you think of my sister?”

 _Shit_.

Gaius’s head snapped back to look at Lissa. Her eyes were still dull, but they were searching his obviously-shocked expression. “Pardon?” He asked.

“I said: what did you think of Emm? My sister, what did you think about her? What was your opinion of her?”

“I. . .”  
  
Lissa tightened her grip around her knees. “You said you didn’t lie, ever. I just want to hear someone tell the truth. Say my sister was human instead of making her out to be this brilliant step-down from Naga herself.

Gaius scratched his chin, pursing his lips. He leaned back on his hands, before sighing. “Well. . . you know that Chrom recruited me when those Plegians went to assassinate your sister. I didn’t want any part in that. I just wanted a bit of coin. Truth be told, I didn’t even know they were there to hurt her.”

“I know that. That’s where we met Panne, too.” Lissa smiled a little at the thought of the Taguel. It didn’t take a genius to note, but Gaius knew she looked up to the older woman. . . . Taguel, even. He’d seen the two discussing herbal remedies that Lissa could use to help others. It was scarce, but he even saw a smile appear on Panne’s face at times. “But what did you think of her?” Lissa’s insistence brought him back to the conversation, unfortunately.

He scratched underneath his chin. “She was a good ruler.” He began, avoiding her gaze. “A good person, too. I don’t think she needed that many riches in her personal holding. Then again, your family is nobility, so that’s pretty much a given. Can’t really fault her for that, I guess.” He shrugged.

“And? There’s got to be more, Gaius. You said you didn’t lie. Please, just. . . tell me the truth.”

“. . . That the world is a lesser place now that she’s left it, but that doesn’t mean _all_ is lost. Yeah, it’s a bad thing that she’s gone, but you’re all forgetting why she did it in the first place. She didn’t just jump because all hope is lost: she jumped to _create_ it for those whose hope was dwindling. Lady Emmeryn was many things, but her name won’t be lost just because there’s no living being to hold it anymore. She’s your sister, Chrom’s sister, and the best monarch this land ever had. But her time is gone now, and we’ve got to see the world she wanted to make become a real thing.

So yeah, I had a lot of respect for her, no doubt about that. And I always will. She knew what she was doing with her power and she made it count for a lot of people. But you’ve got to understand that she’s not the only light in this world. You and Chrom both need to continue her story. Make sure her sacrifice wasn’t a waste of a good life.”

Gaius coughed a little as his speech ended. Declarations of admiration weren’t usually what his mouth spoke, though it seemed to have an effect on Lissa. She stared at him. Eyes fixated on his. Though it made him seem a little invaded, his didn’t break away from her gaze. She was searching for something. An inkling that he was lying? Exaggerating? Or maybe holding back so that he didn’t hurt her feelings? Perhaps none of them were true, or all three. Either way, he meant every word, no matter the context.

“You don’t ever lie, do you?” She whispered.

“Like I said,” he whispered back, “there’s no point to it. Is there?”

“Not even to make someone feel better?”

Gaius shook his head. “Lying will make them feel worse in the long run, won’t it?”

Lissa’s lips quirked a little. “Do you always answer a question with a question?”

“Depends. Do you ask questions to learn more about people?”

Lissa’s little laugh made Gaius smile a little, and he watched her as she slowly unravelled herself from that tight ball. Her feet rooted themselves to the stone floor, and she moved her head to glance at the small patches of sky visible through the wreckage of window.

“Did you know I used to call Emm ‘mom’ for a while? When I was little.”

Gaius couldn’t tear his gaze away from her. _Mom_? Lady Emmeryn was like a mother to Lissa? But, as he thought about it, it did make sense, at least to him. Emmeryn was. . . what, ten years older than Lissa? Nine, at a stretch? The previous rulers had died in the war that Chrom’s father had raged upon the world. Emmeryn ascended the throne when she was just a kid. Barely a teenager. Lissa had been the surprise of the royal family. It didn’t take long for whispers of rumours to sweep the cities: that the last princess was the result of a love affair between the sickly Queen and a guard who took his fancy, and her reputation was tainted before she could even smile for the first time.

“She would dry my tears all the time. People weren’t sure what to make of me in court. I was the ‘surprise of the royal family’. My mother was very sick when I was a baby, and she died when I was two. I don’t remember her much. My Dad. . . I didn’t know him at all.” She let that subject hang, “but Emm was always there to help me. She taught me to read. She helped me write. She. . . she helped me all the time, and I took her for granted.”

Gaius saw her stifle the tears that threatened to spill past her eyes.

“Kids do that, Lissa. You don’t have to feel guilty for it.”

She clenched her fist. “They used to chuck _rocks_ at her, Gaius. _Rocks_! One hit her right in the forehead. But she still helped everyone. She told me that the people were just hurting and that they were all her children and she needed to let them vent their anger. Many of them had lost people to the war my Dad had ordered, and me getting angry at them was the same as them getting angry at her. I understood, but she still helped me enough that I thought she was my mom. Of course, I couldn’t say it in public-- it would have made her reputation shaky at best, but I’ve. . . always seen her as that. I didn’t know my own mother, and Emm. . . was the closest thing I had.”

Her fist relaxed a little, and she sighed heavily. “And now she’s gone, and Chrom’s got to take the throne, even though he didn’t want to, and I. . .” She ran a hand through her messy curls, “I’ve lost Emm. I’ve _lost_ my big sister, Gaius. Chrom doesn’t want to speak to anyone, not even me. The only person he’s spoken to is Robyn, and she’s all upset because she failed to save Emm, and Frederick treats me like he did when he first met me, all distant like I'm some object to be locked up and protected. A-and everyone is tiptoeing around me like I don’t know what’s happened, like I’m some little kid a-again th-that can't understand what death is, a-and. . . I don’t know what to _do_.”

Gaius paused for a moment, watching as the Princess let off a tired exhale. He watched as her body dropped, as her head hung, and realized just how exhausted she was. He cupped his chin, before going over to his pack and rummaging around. Past the sweets, past the empty bottles of concoction, until he came across what he was looking for.

“Gaius?” Lissa said with a voice filled with confusion.

He came back soon after, holding something wrapped in a handkerchief. He sat down beside her, unravelling the cloth until a piece of charred paper revealed itself to the world. Lissa peered at it, blinking fast, before looking back up at him.

“What’s that?” She asked.

“A piece of paper.” He replied.

“I gathered that. I’m not blind.” She rolled her eyes. “I mean: what is it? It looks burned.”

“Something that I don’t know what to do with.”

The etchings of golden words still remained, despite the blackened border of the piece. He could see Lissa narrow her eyes, trying to make out what it said. Her efforts were valiant as always. The words were faded, however. Either due to age or due to lack of purpose, he had little idea.

“Where I was born, ginger hair was rare. Only the Chantry Sisters of Naga had it.” Gaius set the paper down on the table, ignoring the way the light shined down and illuminated the wording. “This was found on me when I was discovered.”

“Di. . . discovered? Y-You don’t mean . . . that you were left _alone_ , right?” Lissa stammered.

Gaius chuckled at her reaction. “You don’t have to pity me or feel bad about it, Princess. I was raised for around ten years in that orphanage, but they weren’t a bad set of people, so I was brought up reasonably well. Ginger hair, however, was a dead giveaway of why I was abandoned. Everyone thought I was a Chantry Sister’s bastard. Pretty sure I was, too.” He stuck another lollipop in his mouth and leant back on the chair.

Lissa had covered her mouth with her hands. “Why would they leave you?”

“Beats me.” He flexed his shoulder again. “Maybe they were ashamed of my existence. Or maybe they didn’t have a choice in leaving me behind there. Either way, I was left right there on the doorstep. With that scrap of paper in the basket.” Lissa’s hand hesitated in going near it. “It’s alright, you can hold it.” Gaius chuckled, “it’s not a sacred keepsake. It’s just something I’ve carried around with me for a while.”

She carried it as if it were a secret: delicate and tender. “Born of. . . blood and s. . . sacred ash,” she read aloud, “raised in streets of fire and ice. . .”

“Blessed is he who walks away, sound of mind and heart of steel.” Gaius finished and shrugged. “Never knew what it meant. I think it’s a verse to a song, but none of the words rhyme in the way the Chantry songs do. It is hand-written, though. So whatever it is, it was meant for me. I think.”

Lissa titled her head. “Why would you show me this?”

“Because like you right now, I don’t know what to do with it. I’ve never known.” Gaius rubbed the back of his neck. “For a while, I obsessed over it. It became all I thought about. It was all I could think about. And that nearly destroyed me.”

“How?” It was more a breath than a word, but Gaius answered it regardless.

“Because I let it become all I was. I distracted it by stealing things, but even then, it haunted me. I drove away good people to find out about it. In the end, I made a choice.”

He could see Lissa holding in baited breath, and smiled a little. She became so enraptured in his tales. Even more so now.

“I wrapped it up and put it away. I didn’t rid myself of it, but I allowed myself to focus on other things. I didn’t forget, though. I just let my life play it’s course without obsessing over what might have been.”

“Are you saying that’s what I should do?” Her head hung again.

“I’m saying,” Gaius gently cupped her chin so that she could look up at him, “you should take your first step. What is it you want right now? What is it you want that’s possible?”

Lissa bit her lip. “Chrom.”

“You want me to take you to him?”

A small blush rose on her cheeks. With a stiff nod, she agreed, and Gaius went to take her hand. She gripped it tightly, and Gaius couldn’t help but notice that she was still shaking a little. He smoothed over her hand with his thumb and smiled at her.

“What if--”

“I’ll talk to him if he does.” He cut her off. “Don’t worry about anything right now, Princess. But rest assured: he won’t turn you away. He’s your brother. If he can accept someone like me, then he’ll definitely make time for you.”

Lissa glanced down shyly as they began to walk down the corridors. It was cold, but he still led her on regardless of that.

“You’re not. . . that bad, Gaius.”

“Hm?” He looked back over his shoulder, “did you say something, Princess?”

“You’re not as bad as you think you are,” Lissa smiled up at him. “You might not think so, but you’re a good person. I hope you’re with us for a long time.  
  
Gaius’s eyes widened a little before he coughed sharply. “Well, I--thank you.” He scratched underneath his chin and turned back to face the path ahead. “We’ll, uh, we’ll have to see about me remaining here in the long-run, but I’m not going anywhere for the moment.”

Hearing her laugh at him did nothing to quell the frantic heartbeat hammering in his chest. He ignored it with quips and attempts at small talk, but she eventually grew quiet as they reached the War room. Lissa stopped in her tracks.

“It’s _okay_.” Gaius squeezed her hand. “It’s okay to ask.”

She glanced up at him. “H-He might be busy or h-he could be resting, maybe I should just--”

“Lissa.” She gulped as he addressed her by her given name. “You want to see your brother tonight, right?” Meekly, she nodded.

“Then don’t let any of those ‘maybes’ hold you back.”

It was then Gaius realized that the rain had stopped altogether. Nothing but a stretch of velvet covered the sky, and small dots of light were free to show as much of the world to human eyes as they desired. That night, however, seemed to shine the brightest.

He raised a hand to the door and knocked loudly. Each sound made Lissa tremble, but she didn’t flee.

 _“I thought I’d told Robyn I didn’t want to. . . yes? Who is it?”_ Chrom’s voice was hoarse from behind the door, and Lissa’s expression pleaded with Gaius to speak in her stead. He sighed.

“Blue, could you come here a sec, please?”

_“Gaius? Of all the. . . can it not wait until the morning, please?”_

“Not really.”

“Fine. But what could possibly be so important that--” As the door swung open, his harsh expression softened the instant he saw Lissa. His little sister terrified to meet his gaze. Gaius gestured for her to step forward, and though it was slow, she eventually did. “Lissa?”

“You’ve got no _idea_ how much it took for her just to come this far,” he murmured to Chrom so that Lissa didn’t hear him, “so _don’t_ shut her out, Blue.”

Chrom nodded in understanding and turned his attention back to his sister.

Gaius didn’t linger around to witness the end of the scene between the siblings, taking his leave as soon as Lissa managed to say her brother’s name in quivered sobs. He merely stuck his hand in his pocket, feeling the charred note dance around his fingers with questions he’d accepted would never have answers. However, that had little meaning in the chaos that was turning over in reality.

Gaius went back into the library and stuck his feet up on the table as he sat back down. He noticed that she’d left her healing staff propped up against the wall, and chuckled despite himself. Settling into the wooden chair, he’d resolved to get some sleep, when a crack of thunder ran through the skies.

He sighed and stuck another lollipop in his mouth.

“Good weather never seems to last very long, does it?”


End file.
